An Interesting Development (Rewrite)
by VivaNewVegas
Summary: Cast aside at the hands of a manipulator, Harry Potter is a very different child than what might be expected. Follow him as he uses his strange powers to navigate his first year of Hogwarts. This story is very different than the original, yet includes a great deal of the same themes.
1. Chapter 1 - The Beginning

This is a rewrite of my best story on this pretigious site, _An Interesting Development_. I shall be redoing the entire story up to where it is, improving on plot and spelling points, hopefuly expanding the depth and fixing what now seems to be a miryad of issues.

I have decided here is where I shall include some information that seemed to escape a few people.

Tonks is young. This is her first year as well. Took 4 chapters to drill that into your skulls.

If you don't like the story, or think it's too cliche'd, then just go ahead and close the browser, I shant think less of you.

If you do continue to read, I ask that when you review, please include something that you would like to see, or some speculation on what might happen. Anything longer than 'great job' or 'can't wait' would be nice.

Yes, I realize, after re-reading, the original story was crap. This is me fixing it. I know that there shall be many different things, but then, I was but a wee lad in the HP fanfiction area. This time since the hiatus has improved my knowledge of cliches, and I seek to branch out. I know there are such things as overpowered/god like/ has every special ability in the book/ animagus forms coming out his ass/ and a plethora of other things, so I am going to tone it down. He will have an awesome animagus, but I can't decide between magical or non magical. Dumbledore will be improved, as will my not so subtle hints at his senileness.

Also. The plot. Whilst I am rewriting to make sense, there will be a change. More than that, this, to some people, will be considered a crossover fic.

On with the story.

The sharp impact against his side sent him tumbling. From his view point, the world spun, everything revolving around his head. He hit the floor on his side, leaving his back exposed. Another sharp pain, this time his body folded backwards quickly. Multiple pops signalled either the somewhat natural popping of nitrogen bubbles between the bones, or a far more serious injury to his spinal column. Given that this felt far more painful, he was inclined to believe the latter.

Ever since he could remember, this had been his life. Wake up, cook a veritable feast for his three housemates, go to school, get bullied by Dudley, return home, do chores, cook dinner, and get crammed in his cupboard, where he would do homework furiously for 45 minutes while he still had light from the grill poking through.

Before and after school he was regularly abused and beaten, always under the pretence of 'fixing' him. He knew what was wrong with him. Well, it wasn't really wrong, so much as different.

At a young age, he discovered he could do interesting things. At first, it was only when his emotions were powerful. He could shrink sweaters, change other people's hair color. One time, he even managed to travel instantaneously in another spot, right before he was caught in a game of 'Harry Hunting.' After a while, he discovered that this was magic. Only magic could explain his abilities. His abilities to make the impossible possible.

But there was something else. Something different about him. It was indescribable, what exactly it was. It existed in him, and was as much a part of him as he was a part of it. All he knew was it manifested itself in two ways.

First, knowledge. Knowledge of everything. He could look at a page in a book, see it only at a glance, and remember every single thing about it. It was more than knowledge. It was like having the most advance super computer in his head. The other way, the other way it manifested itself though was horrifying to him.

Hunger. Not for food, not for drink, not even for an experience or feeling. He hungered for energy. He managed to get it to feed on his magic, siphoning what he thought was an appropriate amount to it to keep it satiated. But it was always there. A hunger for energy. A hunger for power. He often wondered what might happen if he stuck his hand in a power socket, would it kill him, or feed the beast?

He was brought out of his thoughts by another kick, this time to his hip. This sent him down the stairs, landing painfully at the bottom. He laid there, his face an expression of extreme pain. At the top of the stairs, a large, obese man with a walrus like face colored like an old tomato, screamed at him. The words were sludgy, distorted. His head was spinning, having impacted the hard banister on the way down. The new hard wood flooring everywhere made his injuries all the more painful. Before he knew it, he was being hauled into his cupboard. The door was closed, latch locked, and grill snapped shut.

In the darkness, the young boy, with hair as black as night, and eyes that seemed to glow with eldritch flames, Harry Potter dreamt. He dreamt of fire, of destruction, of endless possibilities. His dreams ended the same however, with blue fire and a green flash, followed by the sensation of flying.

**Chapter 1 – The Beginning**

When he awoke, it was like always. His injuries were healed, the blood was gone, and he felt fine. It was exactly 4 am, and it was a Saturday. Dudley's birthday was today. He had been told, right before his beating yesterday, that he would be expected to have a lavish breakfast prepared for the family.

Deciding that he needed food as well, he quickly got dressed in his oversized hand me down clothes, and headed for the kitchen. The sun was barely out, leaving the kitchen colored grey. Despite what some might consider the most beautiful part of the day, sunrise in Surrey was a depressing time. Constant cloud cover and fog didn't go away until about 9, so everyone started the day depressed.

Although he was only 7 years old, Harry managed the kitchen like a professional. Bacon was put on the frying pan, eggs in another. Hash browns were put in the oven, while water was boiled for the tea. Part of the manifestation of knowledge, as Harry called it, was an uncanny ability to keep track of things. In all his years of making meals for the Dursleys, he had only burnt or spoiled the food three times.

While all that was cooking, he took a smaller pan and prepared his own food.

For years, the Dursleys bought far too much food, mostly because they went through it all at an amazing rate. Vernon and his son, Dudley, were extremely obese for their ages. He had no doubt they would be dead long before they should be naturally. The rate at which they ate food was alarming, but it provided a good excuse as to why they always bought more. It left him the chance to grab some for himself before they awoke.

Petunia always ate to little, contributing to her elongated appearance and overly defined bone structure. She would always have half a grapefruit with tea in the morning, while dinner was significantly less than what the other two ate.

Harry was always able to sneak in a portion of food for himself. While not enough for his body, it kept him going, and provided some nutrients for his body. He was short for his age, only 4 feet tall. Most kids in his class were 4 and a-half feet tall. Dudley was the average, but he was also wider than any other kid in school, even wider than some of the teachers.

With his food ready, a small omelete mixed with some bacon, a sausage link, and a hash brown on the side, he ate quickly, managing the feast on the stove and in the oven while he was at it.

When he was done, he laid it out on the table, right as the three people sat down at the table. While they ate, he cleaned the dishes, removing them from the dining room as they ate all of what he made.

With breakfast done, the birthday celebration moved into the living room, where a mountain of presents were kept, awaiting Dudley.

He stayed in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes, while Dudley had a tantrum over not having more presents than last year.

Harry snorted, drying the last plate. You could give Dudley a mountain of gold, a literal mountain, and he would never consider it enough. He would be just as likely to ask for another, or complain that it's not big enough.

The phone rang, and Petunia walked over to the phone. Looking at her, he noticed how she walked. She had a small hunch in her back, while her shoulders were higher than they should be. She didn't take actual steps as much as she shuffled, as if trying not to bend her knees. All in all, she looked very tense, like every muscle was stretched tight, pulling her inwards. If she had a cape, he might mistake her for some sort of bat.

He didn't care who she was talking to. Probably Ms. Figg. She kept an eye on him when the Dursleys went out on trips. Trips to the mall, trips to the theme park, that one trip to France. Whenever trips like that happened, he stayed with the crazy cat lady. Then again, she usually fell asleep after grabbing photo albums of her cats, so he was able to take walks around the community.

He did perk up when she hung up and faced Vernon.

"Bad news Vernon. Ms. Figg broke her leg. She's unable to watch the boy." Harry frowned. This was unusual. What exactly would they do with him? They sure as hell weren't taking him. Vernon had made it clear when Petunia told him to clean the car that he was not to even look at it. That was one of the very few chores Dudley did. Vernon claimed it was a man's car, so a man would do it.

"Is there anyone that can take it in for the day?" grumbled Vernon. He despised the boy. One of the many reasons he did so was because of the boys seemingly freakish ability to heal from anything in a night.

"No. Marge is on vacation, and we can't reasonably leave him with the neighbours." Vernon grumbled, letting loose a string of curses probably not conclusive to raising a child. Even if Harry was a 'freak' and Dudley was an aspiring beach ball.

From out of nowhere, startling even Harry, Dudley started screaming.

"I *huh* don't want *huh* him com*i*i*ing! H*e ruin*n*ns everything!" Harry should have expected this, but realistically, this was a bit much even for Dudley. His parents rushed over, comforting him, telling him they would sort it all out and nothing would ruin his day.

Harry sighed, finishing his morning chores, heading for the cupboard. He still had some homework, and of the few things the Dursleys gave up on trying to beat out of him, it was his perfect grades.

**Chapter1 – The Beginning**

The car door slammed, and the brand new car rolled out of the driveway and left, leaving the house in silence. For a short while.

The soft creaking of small hinges echoed throughout the house. From under the stairs emerged Harry, a glint in his eyes.

Not bothering to close the door, he headed for the back door. The glass slid open quietly, the first bit of sun lighting up the back porch nicely. Fresh air, scented with morning dew filled his nostrils. This was one of the benefits to being alone. On his walks, he could enjoy nature, so different from the interior of the Dursley household, with all its white walls, chrome, steel, and chemical cleaner smell.

He was relaxing, enjoying the sun for however long he could, when a shadow blocked his vision. Opening his eyes, he looked at it.

It was a large falcon, descending towards him. It wasn't attacking, nor was it screeching. It was just slowly descending towards him, something clutched in its claws.

When it was a few feet away, close enough for Harry to see the red and black feathers, it opened it's claws, dropping the letter expertly into his lap. It flew away, returning to wherever it came from. All in all, the experience took no longer than a minute. Harry dumbly looked at the letter.

He did not know anyone who would write to him, let alone train a falcon to drop a letter into his lap. It couldn't have been the Dursleys, animals hate them on principle. Glancing down, he took hold of the paper, turning it over.

On the back was a heavy chunk of wax, pressed with an elaborate G. The paper was some old, thick parchment, yellowed around the edges. The front was addressed in a most curious fashion. In black, blocky letters, it read:

**Mr. Harry J. Potter**

With no other indication of who it belonged to, Harry took it into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the rack. He quickly slit it along the top, opening the contents, and changing his life forever.

[A.N.] Yeh, so it's a bit different. Scrap that, I pretty much lied in the first author notes. So sue me. This story is both a re-write of An Interesting Development, and introducing a new idea I've been toying with.

Should you enjoy the story, thank you.


	2. Chapter 2 - A wand, among other things

Realistically, looking at the first chapter, I am both shocked, and disappointed at the response of this first chapter. Shocked because in a half hour period I managed to rack up over 200 email notifications from this story. I am also disappointed after learning that just 3 of them were reviews. I had hoped for more. Oh well. Hope this turns out better.

Anywho, so, general idea here. First chapters are the intro, this is Harry, here are some of the characters, let's get him sorted, grab him a wand, all that crap. After that, I'm kinda wanting to gloss over the years, perhaps sum 1 to 4 in a chapter, and after that we start off year 4 and expand properly. Since that was the idea last time, and really, year 4 is when the books got interesting.

Oh yes, Edit to chapter 1. Harry got the letter from Gringotts when he was 7, not 10. Gives me more time to adjust him to the darker state I want. Again, that was an edit. He's three years younger.

Any questions, please review them.

On with the story.

* * *

It was the middle August that life changed. For a certain black haired child, it had changed weeks ago, back in June on a sunny day in the kitchen.

For Albus Dumbledore, life changed on the 15th of August. The weather was grey and stormy, either inviting misery or misfortune upon those who visited.

He was here, at Number 4 Privet drive, to collect Harry Potter. The plan was for Hagrid to collect the boy in a few weeks, polarize him to a more malleable viewpoint, and unknowingly set up the future encounter between him and the Weasly clan.

However, the security wards had alerted him that Harry had not been present in the house for an extended period, whilst the Dursley family had been. This was cause for concern. It wouldn't do to have all his plans, 10 years in the making, go up in flames before they could really get started.

Striding forward, he stood before the door of the Dursley residence. With an aging fist, he knocked on the door, the sound going throughout the house quickly. He patiently waited several minutes, growing increasingly annoyed with each passing second.

Being Albus Dumbledore, Head of three major positions of power and widely regarded as the greatest light wizard since Merlin, he was not accustomed to waiting this long. Spying a small button by the door, he pushed it, pleasantly surprised when two bells sounded inside.

Scarcely a minute later, the door opened a fraction, an aging, hateful eye and part of a face showing.

"What do you want?" spat the voice. Dumbledore was surprised at the venom in her voice.

"My dear Petunia, I was just wondering where Harry was? I need to speak to him regarding his future," he intoned. With a mild compulsion charm on his beard, something that drew quite a large amount of attention, most people felt compelled to be nicer to him, to answer his questions, and to generally give him what he wanted.

"He's not here. Left a few years ago. Burned his things later that day," she replied, a bit less venom in her voice. Clearly the compulsion charm was active. Dumbledore frowned slightly, but inside, he was seething.

"No, that's all right. Thank you for your time." The second the door was closed, not that it had ever really been open, Dumbledore popped away.

Arriving at the school gates, he grumbled, swearing under his breath. His destination was his office. There was a device, not entirely legal, that would help him track the boy.

**Chapter 2 – A wand, amongst other things**

The great hall filled slowly with students, all wearing some variation of the Hogwarts standard uniform. An aging man with a far too long beard sat atop a large ornate chair The first year student's haden't walked in yet, the were on the much slower boats and would take a while to make htere way to the school. For the third year, he had been unable to find Harry Potter.

After disappearing from the Dursley's house, Harry had dropped off the map. No method of detection, legal or illegal, was able to find him. Fawkes, his beautiful red and gold Phoenix, had been unable to flash to Harry to deliver his Hogwarts letter, or any other letter.

Glancing towards the first years, who had arrived during his contemplation, he scanned the faces. About half way through glancing them over, he froze. Every fibre of his being was frozen, staring at the figure, roughly half way into the group.

An average height, thin build, with pale skin stood out against the somewhat tanned and bulky 11 and 12 year olds. Shaggy black hair sat on a head, a face that looked quite like James Potter, if a younger version. Green eyes the color of emeralds shone beneath that mess of hair, glancing around, taking in everything. He had to restrain himself from bolting across the table, grabbing the boy and interrogating him right then and there.

Harry Potter was at Hogwarts, and he had no idea how.

Different from other years, he didn't partake in the school song, instead just starting and ending it, motioning for the sorting to begin. He watched anxiously as students were sorted, clapping appropriately. Dumbledore focused intently both on Harry Potter and the names being called. He frowned when the P's were finished, with no Potter being called. One aged hand curled, the already white flesh whitening further. In fact, as the names went on, he was quite tempted to interrupt, state that Harry Potter was there, and sort him into Griffyndor.

'No, that would bring too much attention both to him and myself. Better to wait and see. I'm sure it's a clerical error,' thought Dumbledore, his hand unclenching slightly. Better to wait, and leave the attention on Harry and Harry himself.

"Szarekh, Harry." Dumbledore, after hearing the name, was surprised. It was definitely a foreign name, maybe from the orient. His fist curled, muscles tightening his hand to an impossible extent when Harry Potter walked forward.

He could see Professor McGonagall slightly stiffen when the spitting image of James walked forward, taking a seat on the chair. McGonagall gently placed the hat upon his head, almost reverently. Besides a couple of the teachers, none of the students recognized him for who he was. The hat took it's time sorting Harry. Nearly a full two minutes. He tried forcing what limited wandless magic he had into forcing the hat to sort Gryffindor. Finally the hat made a choice, a surge of power gently ruffling the banners above.

"SLYTHERIN!"

**Chapter 2 – A wand, amongst other things**

With the sound of rushing air, the famed Light Wizard sat heavily on his chair, the portraits of past headmasters either sleeping or visiting other portraits. Reaching just below the top of his desk, he pulled a lemon drop from his own personal supply. The potion coated over the top began to take effect, calming him and allowing him greater access to his mental facilities. Leaning back, he let his mind think about the past week.

Harry Potter, or Szarekh as he preferred, was vastly different than what he needed. Instead of a meek, scared child, blind to the wizarding world as a whole, looking up to Dumbledore as some kindly Grandfather, saving him from the Dursley's, he was quite the opposite.

He was quiet. Not in the physical sense, although he managed to do that quite well. He managed to get from class to class quickly, without ever being late once. Even the convoluted stair system and endless corridor twists, originally designed to throw off invading forces, had no effect. The staff had reported that his work was average, far too average, yet it was completed quickly, faster than anyone else in the class.

No, he was also quiet mentally. He had asked Severus to lightly look at the boys mind, gain some glimpse as to where he was the past few years. Instead, he had barged into his office, raging about how Harry's mind was protected somehow. Asking about the protections, Severus had spewed off that the boy had mental defences that were impossible to figure out. Apparently, it had taken the form of blackness, with hundreds of thousands of different colored points of light surrounding him.

Looking at some examples of Harry's work, he had to agree with the statements. It was exceedingly average. There was content, everything was right, yet he could feel the boy knew so much more than what he had written down. There was also the enormous situation of the boy being in slytherin.

The boy was supposed to be in Gryffindor, house of the brave, rash and above all, stupid. He was supposed to befriend Ron Weasly, becoming pliable to his purposes. Along the way, there would be the meeting between Harry and Ginerva, strife with a variety of potions all designed to make him willing to sign the Marriage documents between the Potter and Weasly families, landing them with a boat load of cash. Half of which they would 'donate' to a certain famed wizard.

Of course, that plan was largely defunct now. Weasly had made a large proclamation that he would not associate with "slimy blood traitors". Sometimes he wanted to see if it was possible to magic away the stupid from the Weasly children.

And of course, how could he forget, the wand. instead of the 11 and a half inch Holly and Phoenix feather wand, crafted specifically because it was Voldemort's brother wand, he had some obscene silvery chunk of metal that, somehow, worked just as well as a wand. He had tried numerous times to get his hands on the 'wand' but every time, he failed. He had tried the curious Headmaster routine, wishing to see it. that didn't work. He tried the guilt trip, but that didn't work. Finally, he tried getting the law on his side, claiming without a proper wand, he was a hazard to the other students. however, after showing his abilities with the wand, it was deemed a poor reason, and he was allowed to keep the wand.

Grabbing another lemon drop, he glanced at the brown paper wrapped package in the center of his desk. Hopefully some of his plan was salvageable. He already had a constant headache attempting to revise his plans 10 years in the making.

Fingering the package, he leaned back, mind racing along, thinking up what he could change.

**Chapter 2 – A wand, amongst other things**

The wood door slammed shut, various wall mounted instruments shaking. Dumbledore, visibly shaking, stormed over to his desk, flicking his wand at the door, locking it.

Any plan he might have had for Harry Potter, he refused to refer to him as 'Szarekh', was down the drain.

Somehow, the brat managed to figure out his challenges with only minimal help. None of the prospective candidates that would follow his Greater Good were able to get close to Harry. The only people to get close were three people, all of them from uncooperative houses.

Daphne Greengrass. The Heiress to the Greengrass fortune, owning quite a bit of estate, used to grow a vast quantity of medicinal ingredients, used in most of the standard healing potions employed by St. Mungos. Her father was a political giant for the neutral side, leading that section of the government. Whilst under his leadership, almost a third of the wizarding government was running free without his guidance.

Tracy Davis. She was the lifelong friend of Daphne. While her family wasn't as respected, they were still pureblood, owning a large brewery complex, staffed by a large quantity of people on work visas. The two families worked together quite well, producing quite a few potions that were consumed on a daily basis, as well with several specialty potions.

The third was more than troubling. Nymphadora Tonks. A metamorphmagus in her first year, she was a Hufflepuff. The fact that she could look like anyone, combined with the fact that she was in the house of Loyalty made things more complicated. She was liable to stay close friends with him for life.

Thankfully, he was not friends with young Draco Malfoy, nore any of the more hardline pureblood supremacists. That would only make his plans, however unsalvageable, impossible.

Regarding the protections on the Philosopher's stone, it was an impossible riddle for him to figure out.

Expecting damage to the chess board, wounded people, broken keys, and a missing bottle of potion, instead, at the end of the 'course' as it were, there was only Potter, with the three girls, standing around the burnt remains of Quirrel. The Stone was nowhere to be found, and the girls had no memory of the incident, remembering only that they wanted to help Harry.

In a fit of rage, he flicked his wand at the door, watching as it was shredded into hundreds of fine pieces, shards of wood buried in the opposite wall. Realizing what he had done, another flick repaired the door and stone. Sitting in his throne like chair, he grabbed a lemon drop and his notebook, preparing for next year.

**Chapter 2 – A wand, amongst other things**

He idly wondered if a different local would change the results. Dumbledore, instead of pacing his office, furiously, wondering where it all went wrong, he was in the astronomy tower, sitting in a conjured throne, a replica of the one in his office, gazing at the sunset. Off in the distance, he could see the smoke plume from the Hogwarts Express leaving after another year of schooling.

Any and all plans he had tried to begin had been shot down with that writing on the wall. At the time, he was worried about the ramifications. Filch's cat was petrified, as well as Draco Malfoy, and oddly Ronald Weasly. At least those had been healed. Ginerva Weasly had disappeared, vanished shortly after the attack on her brother.

Whilst running damage control, he was unable to exert any influence on Harry, leaving him and his three friends to run amok, doing who knows what. He had noticed that he gained a new friend, Blaise Zalbini. This was troublesome, considering his mother, the 'Black Widow' of Purebloods. While traditionally neutral, they did lean towards the dark. His mother though, was a piece of work.

She had gone through 7 husbands, and was soon to marry an 8th. Her fortune was massive, never staying married long enough to have a legitimate heir with any of the men she married. She stayed long enough to gut the vaults and sign the death certificate.

She, also had political power, but not nearly as much. However, he was close friends with Susan Bones, who was the niece of Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This could pose a problem.

Next year, next year he could work on his plans. Nothing that he didn't want was foreseen, so it was only his plans that existed.

**Chapter 2 – A wand, amongst other things**

He cursed. He rarely did these days, but he cursed. It was as if the entire universe was against him. Fawkes, his beloved Phoenix, was against him, only standing on her perch singing sad songs. Potter was assembling a network of people, all who had influential family in the government and who had promise in various areas themselves. Most of all, it seemed that any plan he wanted to enact, was just not going to happen.

Sirius Black, Harry's legal godfather, had escaped from prison. He didn't have all the details, as Black didn't see fit to approach him. Instead, the Ministry decided that Dementors were a clear and logical step to capturing the dangerous criminal. He had talked to Lupin, hoping that the promise of a little extra knowledge, however sparse, and some stories of his parents, would get Harry interested not only in Lupin, but in Dumbledore as well, since Lupin was sure to mention Dumbledore as a family friend.

Instead, the child ignored the man, opting to spend time in the library or out by the lake, staring at the sky with his acquaintances. What's more, the dementors didn't bother Harry at all.

Even though the year was bogged down with people feeling depressed, the freezing chill in the air, and the constant presence of the inhuman guardians, Harry didn't seem affected one little bit. In fact, the creatures kept their distance from the boy. When he drew near, they would drift away, seeking to put distance between themselves and Potter.

At some point, Peter Petigrew, in the form of Scabbers, Ronald's rat, had somehow appeared in the DMLE, opting for an entire investigation as to why a Pureblood member of society was denied a trial. Needless to say, Dumbledore took flak for that, but some well placed bribes, courtesy of the Potter Vaults, made sure he kept his positions.

Glaring hard at a particular instrument, he watched as a center disk spun, while an outer disk with a pointed tip directed him towards where Harry Potter was. He still refused to call him Harry Szarekh, despite the whole school knowing him by that name. Even the staff called him that, after getting no reaction from him when being called Potter.

With a fizzing sound, the smell of burnt wood and metal filled the room as the device burst into flames, turning into a pile of sludge on his shelf. A spark of anger flared within his withered frame, and he lashed out, sending a deep purple curse at the shelf.

Black flames consumed it, eating the wood and other instruments quickly, not that they were useful at all anymore. Every summer his tracking spells and instruments failed spectacularly just past the Hogwarts ward line. Cancelling the curse, it revealed that the bookshelf and whatever was on it was gone, only black ash remaining.

A flick of the Elder wand and it was cleaned up, leaving a suspiciously bare patch of blackened stone. Sighing, he cleaned himself up. The Bulgarian Minister and Headmaster would be arriving later today to finalize details for the next year.

Harry Potter would be forced into his plans, even if he had to be dragged under the imperious curse.

* * *

[A.N.] That's the chapter! I know, it's different. I wrote it from Dumbledore's perspective, since I knew it would be harder to write a one chapter summation from Harry's perspective. Now, I can start right in fourth year, where most people consider the story to have really begun. Because really, isn't that were the HP series really got interesting?

Anywho, I thank you all for your support, it means quite a bit. This chapter is substantially longer, the actual story part being just under 3000 words. Almost all of it was typed in one evening. This evening. Actually, this chapter was rewritten several times before I decided on settling on a Dumbledore POV.

Anywho, enjoy Easter! Happy Easter! Or whatever. Thanks for reading, and as always, I love your reviews.


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